


A Sense of Warmth

by The_Plaid_Slytherin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Chocolate Box Exchange 2015, Frottage, Future Fic, M/M, Outdoor Sex, Reunion Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-16 13:03:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5829985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Plaid_Slytherin/pseuds/The_Plaid_Slytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reunited at Winterfell, Stannis and Davos reconnect - and discover feelings long dormant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Warmth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theoldgods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoldgods/gifts).



> I couldn't pass up your sex in the godswood prompt. :D Hope you like it!

Davos couldn't sleep. It wasn't that the quarters he'd been given were uncomfortable; in fact, they were almost too warm, the furs piled high on the bed driving him out of it with dreams of drowning.

He should have wanted to sleep for days, after his months trekking back and forth across the North. His job was done at last; there was again a Stark in Winterfell. He had presented the boy to the Manderlys and they had been ushered up the White Knife to where his king sat, victorious, so the Northmen could bend the knee.

Davos had watched this all, satisfied that Stannis now had the strength of the North behind him with which to claim his victory. He had spent the day in meetings with his war council and Davos had not gotten a chance to speak with him.

Perhaps that was what kept him up, if he was honest. Getting to see Stannis had been one thing, but Davos would not feel truly satisfied without speaking to him alone.

He gazed up at the heart tree before him. He had never seen anything like it and he was so caught up in staring at its face, he did not sense the presence behind him until he heard the voice.

"Am I correct in assuming you could not sleep either, Lord Davos?"

Davos turned, startled. "Your Grace." He bowed. "I only needed some air. If you would prefer to be alone…" It seemed like eons since they had last been together on Dragonstone. As much as he had longed for this moment, now he knew not what to do with it.

Stannis held up a hand as he approached the clearing in which Davos stood. "No. I only wanted to get a good look at you so I would know I had not dreamed it all."

Davos felt heat climb his neck. "I think I am the same as I always was, sire."

"You are thinner."

"As are you, sire."

"True."

In the moonlight, Davos could see the way his collarbones stood out through the open neck of his shirt. _He is certainly not dressed for being out of doors, much less in winter in the heart of the North._

"I had a long march with few provisions. I lost many men…" Stannis paused. "Devan is safe at the wall. I made sure of that."

"Thank you, Your Grace." Davos had already been told this, but Stannis seemed to need to say it again.

Stannis sighed heavily, his breath steaming in the chill air. "I often wished I had you with me. I needed your counsel."

"You have the North now, Your Grace. The same men Robb Stark had so many victories with. They love you now you have returned to them their liege lord."

Stannis snorted, bracing his back with his hands as he turned his gaze to the clear night sky above. "Robb Stark's best men all died at the Twins, or are still hostages of the Lannisters. The God only knows where his great-uncle the Blackfish is."

"Perhaps when he hears what you have done—"

"What _you_ have done, you mean." Stannis' lips were curved slightly upward. "They should be kneeling to you."

"But I am not the king, Your Grace."

Stannis' laugh was a short sound; a man who did not know him might have thought he'd had something lodged in his throat. "No, you are not. More's the pity."

Davos smiled. "Sire, I think it was right that we were each born to the fates we were born to. I am not sure how you would have fared as a smuggler."

"Perhaps you are right." Stannis turned to him. He said nothing and Davos felt an unsettling prickle on his spine. "I still cannot believe you live."

"And yet I do, Your Grace. You heard the tale yourself." He knew Stannis had believed he was dead; what he had not known was what Stannis would think of it.

"Aye, I did. And it remains unbelievable, if not for the proof before me." He reached for Davos' hand. Davos let him take it, suppressing a shiver. "They took the man's fingertips?"

"I believe he'd already lost his head, Your Grace. I don't imagine he minded."

Stannis did not look up from Davos' hand, as though this were the only proof with which he'd been furnished. "You truly believed Lord Wyman would kill you?"

"Yes, Your Grace." Even though the godswood was warmed by the hot springs, Davos felt as if he were back in the cell in White Harbor, waiting for his death. "I figured my reprieve was given me on the Blackwater. I did not expect another."

Stannis was silent for a long time. He was still regarding Davos' hand like he expected to read his palm. Davos dared not breathe or move, for he did not know what would happen next.

At last, Stannis said, "If I am gladder at that than having the Northmen kneel, what sort of king does that make me, Davos?"

Davos' mouth went dry. He could not answer that. "A king who cares for his subjects, sire."

"You are too generous."

Davos looked at their joined hands, at Stannis' long fingers threaded through his shortened ones. He squeezed gently; he was not sure what had possessed him to do so, other than the long months without Stannis and the possibility they had been just as long for the king as they had been for the Hand.

When he looked up, he found Stannis was watching him intently, and he could not pull his gaze away from the dark blue eyes. There was no sound but the wind in the tops of the soldier pines.

And then, in the next moment, Stannis' lips were on his. It was a brief kiss, almost automatic, so much so that when he pulled back, Davos had to ask himself if it had even happened at all.

"Your Grace," he said, for nothing else seemed appropriate. His thoughts were swirling about like so much windblown snow.

Stannis reached up and brushed his hair back. It was a tender gesture, at odds with everything else about his manner, even his kiss. "You see, Davos," he said. "This is the sort of king I have been. At the Wall, at Deepwood Motte, it was you I thought of, not victory. I wanted to avenge you more than I wanted to make them kneel."

"You will not need to do that now, sire." He did not know how he could keep his voice from shaking. You have your victory." His tongue darted across his upper lip.

"And I have my Hand back." Stannis' thumb was at the corner of his mouth. 

Despite his heavy cloak, Davos fought off a shiver. 

"Perhaps I am simply unaccustomed to such victories."

Davos did not think about the fact that they were in the middle of the godswood and that any person who had trouble sleeping as they did might happen upon them. All he knew was that Stannis' lips were on his again, and it was more than an appreciative gesture. He slipped his arms about Stannis' neck, molding his body to his, wanting to feel every angle of him.

Davos had tried not to allow himself to think of Stannis this way, during his long imprisonment and his journey to Skagos, but the thoughts had come anyway, on those long, lonely nights, a resurgence of the imaginings long dormant.

Their kisses were clumsy out of desperation, Stannis' hands cupping his face. He was pressing forward, making Davos step back until he found himself pressed against a tree. He groaned, arching against it, the bark catching his hair, and Stannis dropped kisses to his now-exposed throat.

Davos longed to touch Stannis, finally pushing a hand up under his shirt. His skin was cool to the touch. _We should be inside_ , he thought, as he splayed his fingers across the thin chest. _Back in the warm bed I found so stuffy._ He did not dare stop their momentum to suggest it, though. This was enough, Stannis' mouth on his neck, his hands in his hair. It was more than enough, more than he had ever dreamed possible.

And then, Stannis' hand was between his legs. Davos groaned. He had not thought to hide his erection, had assumed they were well past the point where it mattered. Stannis' palm was now moving over the bulge in his breeches, seeming to savor it. Davos groaned and concentrated on not sinking to his knees as Stannis unlaced his breeches. 

"Your Grace, I—" he began, though he did not know where he would finish, especially not when Stannis' hand wrapped around his cock, stroking slowly.

Then the hand was gone, planted beside his head against the tree.

"Davos," Stannis murmured in his ear, raising the hairs on his neck. He seemed simply to be savoring the name as he rolled his hips against Davos'. Davos shuddered and reached for the back of Stannis' neck, pulling him into another deep kiss as he came up to meet him. The rest of the world had fallen away. There was only their rough breathing, their desperate kisses, their hips bucking in time together.

When Davos felt his climax begin to build, he tried to will it away, toes curling in his boots, but one more thrust sent him over the edge. "Stannis," he groaned, his lips brushing the other man's ear. He had not meant to use his name, but it had slipped out, the culmination of all those years of unacknowledged feelings. Stannis paused a moment, his breath hitching, then he quickened his pace, giving Davos the friction he needed until he was weak-kneed and spent.

He groaned, slumping back against the tree. Stannis was still breathing heavily, close to the edge himself, and Davos forced himself to keep going, until Stannis was shuddering in his arms, unable to stay standing straight up as his climax overtook him.

For a long moment, they stood boneless, Stannis clinging to Davos, breath ragged. Then, he pushed himself upright again, tucking himself back into his breeches as though this were an everyday occurrence. He offered Davos a hand.

Davos still did not know what to say, so he busied himself with his own breeches. 

"It is snowing," Stannis said at last, breaking the silence. 

Davos looked up. He was right. It was a light fall, not even lying on the ground, and he had not noticed, as lost in their own world as he had been.

"We must go inside," he said, remembering Stannis was without a cloak. He looked thinner and hollower than ever, face flushed as it was. Inside meant a fire, warm mead…

"Yes," Stannis said, perhaps considering the same thing. "Let us leave the northern gods to their snow. Perhaps you will find you are able to sleep now." He turned and began walking briskly through the wood.

 _Perhaps_ , Davos thought, as strode to catch up. And if he found it still eluded him, perhaps he would not be alone.


End file.
